


lifting latches

by portions_forfox



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/portions_forfox/pseuds/portions_forfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which sirius is a cool cat with swagger, james has an annoyingly genuine smile and lily hates them both until she doesn't. meanwhile remus is a regular dr. phil, although we mustn't tell him that because he wouldn't get the reference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lifting latches

**Author's Note:**

> written for [](http://millepertuis.livejournal.com/profile)[**millepertuis**](http://millepertuis.livejournal.com/)' [prompt ](http://kolms.livejournal.com/19212.html?thread=2054924#t2054924)at [](http://kolms.livejournal.com/profile)[**kolms**](http://kolms.livejournal.com/)' [welcome home ficathon](http://kolms.livejournal.com/19212.html) \- _**sirius/lily/james** , quit being a line i'm crossing, i'm never gonna get back from. _i've had this in my drafts for over a week now; i've never been so iffy about a fic before, so feedback is much-appreciated.

First it's, "Lily, Lily, Lily, brightest flow'r that dwells o'er the pond, why dost thou hate me so?"  
  
She doesn't look up from her book. "Shut up, you stupid git."  
  
He tuts, resting his jaw on his folded hands. "My, my, such horrid manners."  
  
"I'm not - you're not even - ugh." She seethes. "I'm not in the mood for this."  
  
"Well, no surprise there," Black points out, digging one hand into the back of the sofa and swinging his legs over. "Try for a little originality next time, hm Evans?"  
  
"I'll try for originality as soon as you try for basic human decency."  
  
Here he frowns theatrically, pouting with his bottom lip. It goes without saying he is the utter picture of arrogance, one arm draped across the back of the couch, legs splayed out in front of him and head cocked to one side. "Now now," he chides, "I'm only lending a helping hand to a friend."  
  
Lily groans, eyes rolling as a reflex, and buries her nose back into the book she's reading. Or _was_ reading, anyway. "If you're talking about Potter, you can try again in a hundred years."  
  
"Ah, but you won't be nearly as good-looking then, darling. Leathery skin and all." He wrinkles his nose preemptively, and -- fucking hell. Isn't it odd how Lily never finds herself suppressing the urge to execute a good backhanded slap save for when Sirius Black is around. "Besides, he's not half bad, is he? Lovely hair, I reckon. He'd be a fab snog."

She snorts, disdainful. "Yeah? Then why don't _you_ snog him?"  
  
"I have, he doesn't quite live up to my standards," Sirius replies mournfully, and of fucking _course_ he's the only male Gryffindor in the Hogwarts castle who's not thrown by such a comment. Because he's _smooth_. Or _what_ ever. "Anyway, Lils --" (and she nearly snarls at the nickname) " -- he's got _loads_ of good qualities, don't you think?"  
  
Lily glares. She's become quite the expert glarer. "The only thing he's got going for him is that I hate him slightly less than I hate you."  
  
A wide grin turns up the corners of Black's lips. Cocky bastard. "Ah, see?" he points out, leaping back over the couch instead of standing up and walking around it like a normal person. "Already you're noting his finer attributes!"  
  
"I hate you!" she reminds him over her shoulder, at which he waggles his fingers and winks.  
  
She hates him. She hates them both.

 

 

 

Next it's, "Would the lady perchance seek an escort to the Three Broomsticks this weekend?" charmed over via paper airplane (which doesn't even make _sense_ , considering they'd probably never even _heard_ of an airplane till the transportation unit in Muggle Studies). The handwriting is Potter's, neat and round and upright, but the handiwork is Black's, calculated creases and a drawn-on engine, because of course he had to find _some_ way to make a mockery of it all. As though it wasn't already.  
  
"Honestly, I don't know how you're friends with them, pass the frog legs," Lily fumes to Remus. He's been assigned as her Potions partner, which, considering the possible alternatives, isn't such a bad lot. He has a solid head on his shoulders, anyway, except when it comes to picking friends.  
  
"Eh, they're not so bad really, hand me the absinthe, will you?" Remus smiles, ducking his head in that mild-mannered way of his. Lily glances sideways at him as she charms a fire beneath her cauldron (pointedly ignoring Black's and Potter's snickers from across the room. She doesn't know what they're snickering about, but it's always _some_ thing.)  
  
"Yeah, or so I keep hearing, stir this for me," Lily muses, because it's true. Everybody seems to like the pair of them, and whereas initially she'd assumed it was because they were manipulatively charming and deceptively kind, lately she's begun to hear more and more firsthand accounts pointing to the conclusion that they're -- well. Charming. And kind.  
  
"They're just scared, that lot," is Remus's fond explanation, and a smile quirks up the corners of his lips as the two of them attempt to signal to him from their far-off seats. "Because they like you."  
  
"One of them likes me," Lily corrects him, and he looks up, brows furrowed.  
  
"Right, of course," he agrees, quite literally smacking his forehead. "That's what I meant."

 

 

 

Eventually she takes him up on one of his paper-plane offers, and she does so by marching up to him in full prefect mode and poking him in the chest with her finger.  
  
"...but if I'm going to go on this date with you," she forewarns, "there shan't be any funny business, understand? I don't want you mucking about like you do when you're with your mates. No -- jokey persona, or -- or cocky grin, which, by the way, that's not even your grin, you stole that from Black --"  
  
"Oi!" James interjects, one hand rising to cover his heart: _I'm hurt_. "If anything he stole that from me."  
  
"Whatever," she dismisses with a flick of her wrist. "The point is, I aim to go on a date with _you_. With James Potter. Not -- 'the man, the myth, the legend,' just -- you."  
  
He shifts his weight onto one hip, rests his hand on the railing of the moving staircase. (Behind him the Fat Lady swoons and fans herself at the sight of blossoming young love. Lily chooses to ignore this.) "I don't think you realize this," James remarks, "but what you've just said is actually..." He purses his lips, thoughtful, nodding, "...rather sweet." And now he smiles, really smiles, brown eyes sparkling at the edges and teeth flashing white, the kind of achingly genuine smile Lily's never seen displayed by the likes of Sirius Black before. It's staggering, really. Annoyingly so.  
  
"Oh, don't piss yourself," she scoffs, and the staircase connects with the landing just in time for a dramatic stomp-off.

 

 

 

Sirius kicks her dear partner out of his chair in Potions, so of course Lily is furious.  
  
" _Remus_!" she hisses as he gathers his things and saunters off, but he only shrugs, _What can you do?_ Sliding into place beside James, he glances over his shoulder to mouth _I'm sorry!_ at her. Naturally she mouths back, _I will kill you_. There's a rightful grimace and then she's staring at the back of his head.  
  
By the time she turns to face him Black has already somehow made the table his bitch, feet propped up on the surface like he's living in a James Dean film (a reference he wouldn't understand - honestly, _purebloods_ ) and hands laced behind his head of thick curls. Despite how desperately he strives to emphasize his status as the Black sheep of his family, he looks like one of them, tall and olive-skinned with a long neck, high cheekbones, arched brows and quickly-smirking lips. His eyes are dark, nearly black, hard to read. Everything about him's just a little bit hard to read, and maybe that's why people say he and James aren't _actually_ the exact same person.  
  
"So a little birdie told me you've got a date with James this Saturday," is his intro, along with a single raised eyebrow.  
  
She gets to work on the preparations. (One should always begin by assembling one's ingredients in an organized manner.) "Would that little birdie happen to have enormous breasts, Black?"  
  
He makes that face again, that mock-reproachful face. It's a stupid face. "Well, well, well," he rebukes, "let's not prod into my personal life, Lily, what I do and who I am."  
  
"A whore, you mean."  
  
"A man-whore, if you please."  
  
"No, I'm fairly certain that term is gender-neutral, whore."  
  
"Miss Evans, I implore you to cease your misusage of that highly offensive word."  
  
"Why? I was just addressing you by name."  
  
At this he stops, lets his feet slide from the table and leans forward. Smirks. "You have me to thank, you know."  
  
Lily nearly groans aloud. "And what, pray tell, in all the bloody world would I have to thank you for? No, honestly, I'm excited to hear this."  
  
He pauses to allow the moment to sink in, then, "For getting you two together."  
  
The fire that Lily casts beneath the cauldron flares up a little brighter than expected. "Oh _please_ ," she spits, "we're not together. It's one date. And anyway you've done _nothing_."  
  
"No no, no no, it's all those years of me nagging that finally got you to cave in! It is! Admit it!"  
  
"I'll admit that the day you admit you're a whore."  
  
He's staring at her, she can tell, even though she's not staring at him, and if she knows anything about him he's probably smirking as well. He flicks his wand once in the direction of the cauldron, not even breaking gaze, and when Lily peers inside the potion is finished.  
  
"Honey," he admonishes, stands up and motions to Remus to switch places again, "that's a rookie mistake." And he sends over a paper airplane that reads, _I'm a whore_.  
  
The drawings on the inside are less than tasteful.

 

 

 

On their third date Lily's laughing so hard she's sure (or if not sure, at the very least hopeful) she's developing a set of abs, and it's because James is making her laugh, really making her laugh, embarrassing stories that involve summers at a Muggle swimming pool and a loose pair of trunks, and he's being himself, which is - pretty fantastic. And it's also fantastic to have someone so hung up on you they laugh at all your jokes. Even the really shit ones.  
  
Lily's just finished regaling him with her traumatic tale of Black's pornographic message, and in retrospect it's a lot funnier than she thought. They've both been guffawing quite a lot and on an exhale Lily laughs, "Honestly I don't know what you see in him."  
  
And it's not like she says it with any truly nasty intention, like she's legitimately aiming to stir up contention or something petty like that, but all of the sudden James is strikingly serious, the smile gone and his eyes deep as he tells her, "He doesn't mean to be that way, really. He's got a lot of stuff going on."  
  
" 'Stuff?' " Lily repeats, still chuckling just a bit because she hasn't entirely registered the change in atmosphere. "What d'you mean, 'stuff'? Did two of his girlfriends find out about the other two?"  
  
James smiles, but it's small and more obliging than amused. He's broken off eye contact now, and is nervously dragging his fork through the sauce on his plate. "No, I mean... real stuff."  
  
Lily folds her arms, dubious. "Sirius Black. Sirius Black has _real stuff_ going on."  
  
"Yeah. He - he does."  
  
She tosses her hands in the air, narrows her eyes. "I'm sorry if I don't quite follow," she frowns, "it's just with the way he acts -"  
  
"He acts that way for a reason," James cuts in, and it's the first time in weeks - the first time ever, actually - that he's spoken to her with a bite to his words. And there's not only the initial trace of bitterness there, no - there's also something that feels a lot like he's _scolding_ her, for - for immaturity, or something. And since when has _she_ been the immature one.  
  
She goes silent, naturally. Crosses her arms.  
  
James sighs and runs a hand through his hair, fingers kneading through the neat strands of tawny. It's a gesture she's seen on Black before, usually just before a test in History of Magic or when the score is tied in Quidditch. It's funny how much they pick up from each other.  
  
"Listen, I'm sorry," he amends, and his hand tugs one of hers away from her torso and onto the table. He covers her knuckles with his palm, rough, warm. "It's just - he's my friend. He's my best friend."  
  
Lily's eyes flick down to his hand, his pale thumb skating lightly over her knuckles. There's a freckle on his index finger, just below the nail.  
  
"Okay," she says to him.

 

 

 

"Remus, hey," Lily chirps brightly, plopping down on the grass beside him. "Beautiful day for a study break, don't you think?"  
  
He glances up from his book, squinting against the sun at her. "This seems a bit odd coming from you. No offense," he adds, carefully, because he's Remus and he's sweet like that.  
  
"None taken," Lily replies lightly, settling back on her palms. "In fact, I'll take it as a compliment. I quite revel in my reputation as a studious young adult."  
  
Remus' lips twitch. Perhaps it was a bit much even for him. "Do you now?"  
  
She rolls her eyes, smiling slightly, and bumps his shoulder with her own. "Oh, Jesus, don't turn into _them_ already, Remus."  
  
He doesn't respond, just quirks a smile at her and turns back to the book in his lap.  
  
Lily clears her throat.  
  
"Speaking of them," she begins, "James and Sirius, I mean." It's a bit weird, saying his name. But ever since she's started dating James she can't exactly call him 'Potter' anymore (much as she'd like to sometimes) and since the two of them are a package deal she ought to conform to one or the other, first name or surname, so Sirius it is. Just not to his face.  
  
Anyway the whole 'package deal' thing is exactly why she's here in the first place. "Just how close are they?"  
  
Remus squints up at her, probably seeking to unroot her motives. He won't find those, she's hidden them.  
  
"I don't know," he finally shrugs, and back to the book he goes. "Pretty close."  
  
'Pretty close.' What a breakthrough. "Yeah, but," Lily breathes out, "how close is pretty close? Like, normal-best-mates close, or brothers-close or... something else?"  
  
Remus shifts, and Lily can see her questions are beginning to make him uncomfortable. Rightly so. He's too bloody perceptive, that one. Damn him. "A mix of the three?" he guesses, and this time when he looks at her he keeps looking.  
  
"What d'you mean by that?" (She wonders idly if she's still doing a decent job keeping up with the 'casual' thing, but casual is really not her forte.)  
  
Remus sighs, but it's a mix of a sigh and an exhalation and a groan. "Well," he translates, "they're best mates in that they muck about with each other and can hardly spend a moment apart."  
  
Lily snorts. "That bit I know."  
  
Remus goes quiet for a moment, which means, of course, that he's thinking it over. Tentatively, he goes on, "And I suppose they're brothers in that... in that they're always there for each other. I mean," he raises his eyebrows, snorts a little, " _always_. James is pretty open about it, he's, you know, he's constantly trying to help, because... Sirius really needs it sometimes. His family..." He trails off, his finger absently tracing the seam of his book.  
  
"His family what?" Lily wonders.  
  
"Nothing," and the response is clipped, immediate. Lily doesn't press any further. "And Sirius will pretend otherwise," Remus continues, "but... there's a reason he spent all that time trying to get you to go out with James."  
  
Lily snorts again (another skill she never guessed she'd use quite as often as she did). "Oh yeah? And what's that?"  
  
Remus meets her eyes, then, and it's the same sort of look James gave her in the Three Broomsticks the other night, earnest and solemn and like he's sincerely trying to tell her something. "Because, Lily. He knew it was important to James. You were important to James."  
  
(Lily tries very hard not to blush.)  
  
She's already gotten up and brushed off the backs of her robes and started prancing away before she turns around and remembers to ask, mainly as an offhand bout of curiosity, "Oh, and what was the 'something else' bit you mentioned?"  
  
"What?" Remus asks, and then he laughs, head tilted back and chin up. "Oh," he recalls, waving a hand, "they've snogged once or twice."

 

 

 

This time it's Lily who kicks James out of his seat in Potions (and she may or may not tap his bum on his way over to sit by Remus. He acts offended, but he's terrible at not grinning).  
  
"Listen," she instructs as she slides into the stool next to Sirius - Black - whatever. For once he looks taken aback, which, she has to admit, is quite a triumph. "I've gathered some intel, and I've come to a decision."  
  
"Yeah?" Sirius prods, leaning his chin into his palm as he swiftly recovers his swagger. "And what's that?"  
  
She clears her throat authoritatively. "I've decided that, much as it may pain me - and trust me, it does - I am going to attempt to be friends with you," she announces grandly, and this time she doesn't lay out all her ingredients before she starts mixing them. Living wild.  
  
Black's eyebrows raise. "And why might that be, Miss Evans?"  
  
Lily stops. Turns. Looks at him straight in the eye. "Because it's important to James," she offers. "You are important to James."  
  
He's blank for a moment, his eyes just as distant and cold as they ever are, but then he smiles, just a little bit, slow and tiny but very real.  
  
And maybe that's another reason.

 

 

 

Something happens halfway through their seventh date.  
  
Scrawny Peter Pettigrew scrambles up to their table, blushes red at the sight of her and squeaks out a hello, then whispers something quick and low in James's ear and scuttles off.  
  
James's smile is gone and his face is an unreadable slate. He brushes the napkin off his lap and stands up, fishing a few Galleons out of the pocket of his robes and tossing them onto the table. His chair scrapes the floor as he turns to go, his parting words,  
  
"I'm really sorry, Lily, but something's come up, and I've got to - I've just, I've got to go."  
  
She's out of her chair now too, bewildered and a little worried by how worried _he_ seems, and she calls, "What's it about?"  
  
"It's, um," James answers distractedly as he pushes open the door, "Sirius."  
  
Her face softens in relief as she sits down again, clearing off the rest of her plate (and some of his, okay) because if it's Sirius it can't be anything too... serious. Probably just one too many detentions or something.  
  
And so she saunters back to the castle. Takes a nice stroll along the grounds with her friend Alice, chats about homework, dips her feet in the lake. Studies a bit for her NEWTs. Brushes her teeth and goes to bed.

 

 

 

Late at night she wakes up, and is not entirely sure why. It's one of those moments she's asleep one second and startlingly awake the next, awake enough that she supposes she'll have to groggily heave herself up and read for a bit in the common room to tire her eyes.   
  
There are already two boys in the common room, conversing with each other in low, insistent whispers, and as she reaches the landing, rubbing at her eyes and blinking away sleep, she realizes it's James and Sirius. Sirius is pacing in front of the fire, and James is sitting upright and stock-still on the sofa, his back to her and his arms folded neatly in his lap.  
  
"... don't know what I'm even doing ..." she hears from Sirius, but the beginnings and the ends of each sentence are muddled by the distance. "... never going to appease the fucking Black family legacy, I just..." And in the flickering light from the fire Lily can see him run a shaking hand through his long hair, a movement so startlingly familiar to her by now that something in her flinches at the sight of it on Sirius instead of James, Sirius with his unsteady hands and near-black hair, something unsettling about the way he does it. Like it's more than just a nervous tick.  
  
"Fuck them," in James's voice, a little louder, firmer. He doesn't swear much, James, despite what one might believe and despite the mind-blowingly foul language employed by his best mate, so the words shaped by his lips, his voice, ring sharp and sour in the air.  
  
Sirius mutters something, pacing again, and then a little louder Lily hears, "Honestly, Sirius. Fuck. Them."  
  
(Honestly. That's her. That's her thing.)  
  
"I just don't know if I can - "  
  
"Sirius."  
  
He makes a noise, something between a scoff and a moan, and then it's, "Shit, James, you don't understand, it's not - this isn't some fucking _game_ , all right? This is, _fuck_ , I -"  
  
In the dark James's hand shoots out and catches Sirius by the wrist.  
  
(Lily's breath hitches.)  
  
Sirius stops pacing, and his head turns to James's grip, his gaze fixed on the fingers curled around the thin skin of his wrist, and - and a shadow shifts and fuck, Lily can see that freckle, that brown spot on James's finger, and then his thumb picks up and is hesitantly tracing a line from the knob of bone at Sirius's wrist up the side of his palm, the deep creases there. And Lily knows the motion of his hands on her skin, can almost feel it now.  
  
Sirius's eyes flick up to James's face, and from here it's not James but Sirius she can see, Sirius's wide eyes and open lips, the slant bones beneath his eyes stark in the shadows from the fire. "James, you - " Lily watches his throat bob, the olive skin lifting over his neck, and he opens his mouth and more words pour out, words she can't decipher but she hears her name in there somewhere, the lilting double _l_ with possibly a _what about_ preceding it, and she nearly gasps.  
  
There's a pause, and then a careful, decided, "It's all right," and the hum and lull of more words and then something that sounds like, "You need this."  
  
He laughs, soft and low, and something flutters deep in the pit of Lily's stomach when he yanks Sirius toward him till they're only a tangle of arms and legs on the sofa, James's fingers tugging at the back of Sirius's shirt, a single golden thread of skin, hands resting there and pressing into bone, the shuffle of limbs against each other. Firelight across their hair.  
  
Lily's back in bed and staring at the ceiling, and her heart's pounding and her breath is ragged and there's a sheen of sweat atop her upper lip.  
  
She should feel terrible, shouldn't she.  
  
(Terrible is not what she feels.)

 

 

 

She tells Remus, who at first is just surprised she isn't seething mad, but then seems to realize there's something else at play here - perceptive bastard that he is - so he shrugs. He's thoughtful for a moment - a much-appreciated trait, truly, especially considering everyone else in Lily's life quite obviously only act on impulse - and then he answers, "To be honest I'm not terribly surprised. Like I said, James'd do anything for Sirius. It's like a natural extension of their relationship."  
  
Lily's hand lands on her hip, which she cocks to one side, a grin on her lips. "Well would you look at you, Mister Experienced Psychiatrist."  
  
He blinks. "Is that a Muggle thing?"  
  
She rolls her eyes, claps a hand to the side of his head. ( _Ow_ , he moans as she strides away.) "Honestly, you wizard-borns ought to watch a good James Dean film every once in a while."  
  
"Are there psychiatrists in James Dean films?" he calls after her, and there aren't, really, but _he_ doesn't know that, so she tells him yes and grins.

 

 

 

At lunch the next day James and Sirius are taking turns retelling a story about rigging a trap for Slytherins above their own common room entrance, and they keep cutting each other off and finishing each other sentences like this is a normal way for humans to behave in conversation, because really it's the only way they know. And then Sirius, mouth full of turkey, turns to James and says, "Hey, d'you finish that Transfigurations essay? 'S due tomorrow, I think." And James says _shit_ and runs a hand through his hair.   
  
And Lily nearly has a heart attack.

 

 

 

A month later Sirius is drumming his fingers against the table in Ancient Runes, and this is the one class he has without James (they've been whinging about it all year) and he's obviously nervous about something, God knows what, and there's no one here to distract him from said nervousness with ridiculous, time-wasting, childish antics.  
  
Lily ditches Alice ( _Sorry_ , she mouths) to sit next to him and he raises an eyebrow. She rolls her eyes. Their signature expressions. "We're friends now, remember?"  
  
"Right," he answers, but the banter's not there, which means, shit, something's up.  
  
Lily shifts in her chair. Scratches at the back of her neck.  
  
"Hey," she whispers, and oh bloody hell is she actually doing this, "want to charm Derek Terwiliger's wand above his head for the rest of class? We can alternate on the incantation."  
  
Sirius quits drumming his fingers and searches her eyes, like maybe this is some kind of prefect trap she's set for him. And he looks the way he always looks, like there's a curtain over his face and he's never going to lift it up.  
  
Except, then he does.  
  
"Okay," and he grins, full-on, reaching up to touch his dark eyes so wrinkles fold around the edges. "Let's do it."

 

 

 

Of everything she heard that night, of all the whispered words, she remembers most of all: _you don't understand_. Because of all the things she'd expected Sirius to say to James, that was about the last on the list. They are best friends. They are brothers. She's pretty fucking sure they would die for each other, the sappy gits, and yet - _you don't understand_. Sure, _she_ didn't understand Sirius, and his teachers didn't and maybe Remus didn't and his family sure as hell didn't, but _God_ , James _had_ to. Otherwise - otherwise it just wouldn't make sense. And Lily likes things to make sense.  
  
The thing is, though. The thing is she has this sinking feeling that perhaps he doesn't.   
  
(James tells her stories with smiling eyes that never stray from hers, and hands, hands he could paint pictures with and a laugh that bubbles up between his sentences like it just can't help itself. James is something to behold, really, and it's almost intimidating how very much a golden child he is - he is charming, witty, suave, and yes, kind; he has the perfect family, the perfect grades, the perfect Quidditch record; he has a clean, clear voice and bright eyes and a wide, unaffected smile. He is perfect. His life is perfect.   
  
Sirius, less so.)

 

 

 

(So it's no wonder, really. It's no wonder Sirius is the way he is. And it's no wonder that when she gets him to smile it means a little bit more.)

 

 

 

They've stayed up in the common room far after everyone else has gone to sleep - hours ago Alice yawned and plodded off to bed, and it had been forty-five minutes since Remus, the last but for the three of them, had declared, 'You've turned her mad, you lot,' and they'd all made loud booing noises as he trudged upstairs to their dormitory in defeat.  
  
And now it's warm, and James's arm is around her shoulders and Sirius's shoulder is pressing into her back, and the boys are teasing each other about some failed prank or another and the fire is making crackling sounds in the hearth and Lily feels like home. She says, "I saw you two snogging once."  
  
They booth freeze. Understandably.  
  
"It wasn't -"  
  
"We're not-"  
  
"Every once in a while we just-"  
  
"Sometimes when Sirius's family are being pricks-"  
  
" -that's always, though, James-"  
  
"Yes, but it's only happened, like-"  
  
"Hush," Lily hums, frowning and letting her eyes slip closed. She settles back into the cushions, sighing. "It was... rather sexy, if you must know."  
  
She can feel them staring at each other over the top of her head. The secretly-communicating bastards.  
  
"So you're not - bothered?"  
  
Lily is about to say, _More like hot and bothered_ , but she wisely decides that's stooping a bit too low even for her. "I am not," she yawns. "I like you, James, and I like you, Sirius, and it would very much please me if you would both kiss me right now."  
  
There's a pause, and then, "What, both of us? Simultaneously?"  
  
"No, you idiots, just - figure it out."  
  
They do.


End file.
